Reaped Out: Act 1
by pinkminx
Summary: NOW BETA'D! Daria dies and becomes a reaper- Act 1 Complete. Dead like Me xover
1. Chapter 1

**Reaped Out**  
**Act 1**

Chapter 1

_Being an eighteen year old young woman on the cusp of adulthood, days shy of graduating high school; most would say I had the world at my feet. Having been blessed with a higher than average IQ and the ability to drown out the white noise of adolescent society, I had successfully coasted through high school and now rivalled a select few to take the title of valedictorian; many of my peers and teachers saw great things in my future. As part of a routine wind down of senior year I, along with the other graduating students, were interviewed by the hapless excuse of a school councillor to plot out the rest of our lives._

"What do you want to do with your life Daria?"

Truth be told, I hadn't given it much thought. The major goal I had set three years prior was to survive high school life unscathed and thus far, I had somewhat managed that. Physically at least. Mentally, I hadn't been so lucky; having one of the most popular girls in school as a sibling had its drawbacks, especially when I had been constantly referred to as her 'cousin or whatever'.

What was my life plan? Was there a predestined path for me to follow, or was I in charge of my own reality? Was life really what you made it or was it a series of random events you unwittingly stumbled through till the day you died; which for me was in approximately forty minutes time.

***

"Good afternoon Laaaawndale High. This is your principal speaking, to remind any of you who may have forgotten that the first ever annual Fashion Expo will be held in the auditorium in half an hour. I will also remind you that attendance is mandatory for all. So come along and support your school- Goooo Lions!"

"Well, there goes all hope of actually doing anything productive this afternoon." Jane muttered as she and Daria arrived at their lockers. "Although, I could do some sketches and compile them for a new work...You could use it as a basis for an essay on the deterioration of teen society and the worrying trend of preteen wrinkles." She shot a smirk toward Daria.

"I'm not going. I've had enough of all this, Li can't do anything; we have a little more than a week left of school before we graduate."

"Hmm, I wouldn't bet on it she'd find a way to make you pay."

"Forget it. I'm out of here, I just have to return a book to the library and I'm going home." Daria retrieved a large thick textbook from her locker, shut the door and began to walk toward the library.

****

Daisy stood at the door to the auditorium and glanced at her companion with a worried look.

"How on earth are we supposed to find our Reap?" Daisy fretted as she nervously pushed a stray lock of golden hair behind her ear.

"We? Our? Since when did this become a team sport? The only reason I'm here is because you can't be bothered to steal your own car." The younger blonde deadpanned as she scanned the halls.

"Georgia, come on, please? There's thirty five minutes 'til E.T.D." Daisy's crystal blue eyes shone helplessly.

Georgia sighed. "Fine, who do we have?"

Daisy retrieved a crumpled Post-It from her purse and studied it. "D. Morgendorffer, 1:45pm Lawndale High School auditorium. Which would be helpful, if the whole damn student body weren't assembling there."

****

Daria and Jane walked slowly toward the school's exit which unfortunately, meant passing by the entrance of the auditorium. Daria stole a few furtive glances as they walked by; it seemed they were able to evade Ms Li. They had reached the large, glass, double doors to the exit of the building when they were caught.

"Ms. Lane, Ms. Morgendorffer. Where do you think you are going?" Ms Li stood in the middle of the corridor her hands placed firmly on her hips, feet planted on the ground. The two girls froze in the school's threshold; one door semi -ajar, held open by Jane's outstretched hand. "Inside. Now."

The two girls exchanged glances then turned and sheepishly followed Ms. Li.

Daisy and Georgia perked as they heard the name and slowly turned toward each other. Daisy flashed a smile, and turned to greet Ms Li.

"Excuse me, Ms..."

"Li." Ms Li turned toward the thin, stylish blonde. One look and she deduced this woman had to have been involved with the expo, the expo that was funding the new football uniforms.

"I was wondering if I might have a word with Ms. Morgendorffer?" Li raised her brow in suspicion and Daisy thought on her feet. "She has been elected to partake in the expo; a makeover." Daisy beamed.

"Fine. Good luck." She scoffed. "Ms Lane, this way."

Jane stood in the doorway of the auditorium and observed the other young female that accompanied the blonde. Jane guessed she'd be no older that nineteen; her face mirrored the familiar deadpan expression that was regularly seen on Daria. Jane glanced back to Daria as the taller blonde shook Daria's hand, then turned and motioned to the other girl to follow her, as Daria returned.

"Come on. In. Both of you." Ms Li said curtly, she saw the disdain on the girls faces. "Go on. It won't kill you."

"What was that about?" Jane whispered as they walked down the aisle.

"I have no idea; I think she's had one too many hair treatments or chemical peels."

The two girls found a seat in the front row. Daria scoffed as they sat and looked around the hall at the larger-than-life size beauty products, with the closest to them a curling iron and a set of bobby pins.

"It looks like a Barbie threw up in here; who on earth would find this appealing?" Daria queried; she didn't have to wait long for an answer.

"Oh wow, Kevvie! Look at that big hair dryer. Imagine how much hair you'd have to have to use that!" Brittney's inflected voice squeaked from behind them.

"Aww Babe they're for like, giant chicks."

"Oh Kevvie, you're so smart."

"Oh. My. God. You just _had_ to try and rebel. We could have had a seat _way_ back in the safety of the outcast section..." Jane muttered.

The lights dimmed as loud electronic house music filled the room and a parade of Lawndale's popular females traipsed across the stage. Stacy walked out followed by Sandi; it was evident that they were arguing.

"Stacy, I will go first." Sandi ordered.

"But Sandi, we decided in the choreography earlier, that we were going out by height." Stacy replied meekly.

"Yes. But now I've changed my mind."

Sandi yanked Stacy's arm back. It caused her to stumble and lose her footing. Stacy reached out and scrambled for something to use to regain her balance and found only the large curling iron sculpture for support.

The sculpture teetered precariously and fell. It upended the table that housed the bobby pin sculptures and launched them into the air.

The room stood silent. The only sounds were the soft sobs emitted from Stacy as she lay trapped under the curling iron sculpture. Jane took in the scene and was the first to break the stunned silence.

"HA!" she cackled, making no attempt to hide her laughter. Tears streamed down her face and she tapped Daria's shoulder while she tried to regain a little composure. "Aren't…you…glad…you…didn't…miss…that." she managed between breaths, eyes glued to the train wreck on stage. She waited for a response, moments of silence passed and Jane turned to her friend.

Daria sat lifeless; impaled to her chair by two of the over sized hair pins. One had gone through her stomach and the other was lodged through her head, still swaying slightly. Jane sat in shock and found herself incapable of movement.

Daria stood at the doors, confused as to how she had gotten there so quickly.

"Hey, Dara." A hushed feminine voice beckoned from the hall.

Daria turned, entered the corridor and met with the shorter blonde from earlier.

"Hey, you've got to hurry up and move on. I've got to get back to town I have a Reap at seven." Georgia spoke in a hushed tone while she scanned the empty hall as they walked to the exit. "You didn't see that blonde chick did you; tall, stylish, complete pain in my ass?"

"Move on? What reap? What the hell's going on?" Daria asked her normally monotone voice broke in bewilderment.

Georgia sighed in exasperation. "You're dead. Your current state of existence is a soul. You're a ghost." George stuck out her hand and moved it through Daria's mid-section for emphasis. "Now, I have to find Daisy and you have to go to, where-ever it is you go." She said as she opened the doors and caught a final glimpse of a bright burst of light. She looked between the lights and Daria.

"Aww shit. Well, it looks like you're sticking around. Welcome to your afterlife."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The two girls stood in the doorway. Daria had stopped and looked down at the floor.

"What do you mean dead? How can I be dead? I'd remember it; I'd have felt it." She spoke slowly; her voice distorted with disbelief.

"And here I thought the fact you were able to dematerialise would have convinced you." Georgia muttered the annoyance was evident in her voice. "Look, you didn't feel anything because your soul was taken before you died, and believe me, you died; I saw it, it wasn't pretty."

"Wait, did you kill me?"

"No, look I can take you back inside and you can see for yourself though I guarantee it won't do any good."

Daria stood firm and looked at Georgia. Georgia sighed and walked back into the building, to the doors of the auditorium and slipped in with Daria in tow. The mood inside had reached a chaotic level; many of the students sat in shock or scrambled to get a better view. Daria filtered down through the crowd to where she had been seated.

The first thing she saw was Jane hunched in a seat, closest to the aisle. Her cheeks were red, burnt by tears. She sat in a fetal position with her arms hugged to her legs while she stared over to where they had originally been seated. Daria followed Jane's gaze to the source of the action; her own limp body. It was next to the seat and the offending bobby pins removed and laying nearby. She watched the vain attempts of the school nurse to use CPR in an effort to resuscitate her.

"I knew the fashion industry would kill me one way or another," She mused, as the irony of being impaled by a pair of oversized novelty hair pins struck her. She turned away and glanced back at Jane once more; Quinn had found her, the pair held each other and sobbed. Daria bit her tongue, hard, in a bid to abate the tears that began to well in her eyes. She turned and walked back to Georgia. The two girls exited the school and drove away in George's red convertible Ford Mustang.

Daria sat in silence as they drove. She listened to Georgia's introductions and explanation of her new life and duties. She would become a Reaper, collecting people's souls and aiding their transition into the afterlife. She described the other Reapers in their group, including their leader, Rube, a middle aged man that gave out the assignments and handled the bureaucracy with upper management.

"Like God?" Daria asked. George looked at her with a bemused smile and shrugged.

Georgia went on to describe Roxy, a hard assed meter maid turned cop who didn't take shit from anyone, and sixties wild child Mason, an English drug-addled screw-up that 'meant well'. They pulled up at a modest white weatherboard house and entered. Georgia informed her that she once she met the rest of the gang they would set off to her autopsy and funeral.

Daria was unnerved by the casual tone the girl took as she discussed Daria's passing; as though it were an insignificant trivial event. Her normal stoic misdemeanour had begun to slip, as the pent up mixture of emotions boiled to the surface.

"It's not fair, how could I have died? This isn't the way things were suppose to be. I'm doomed to spend the rest of my days in Lawndale, providing the janitorial services and cleaning up souls after their earthly body's demise. This has to be a dream; an effort of my subconscious telling me to stop alienating myself and using my sarcastic wit to keep people at arm's length. Just a dream brought on by one of dad's 'Maddog curry combinations' that's all. Any minute now the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future will appear and teach me my lessons...." Daria groaned and looked around the still, dark room. There were no apparitions, no blinding lights, no waking up in the safety of her padded cell in a sweat drenched frenzy to curse her father's culinary disaster. This was the real deal.

Daria paced around the unfamiliar house as her mind drifted back to her family and more important best and only friend Jane.

***

Trent pulled his car up to the police station and jogged quickly toward the entrance. For someone that spent most of his time idle, he could move fast. He had received a call from one of the junior officers about Janey and expected the worst.

"Can I help you sir?" the petite blonde seated behind the desk asked.

"Uhh, I'm here for Janey...Jane Lane. I was told she was being questioned." Trent looked around nervously; the last time he had been in the police station wasn't because he had been the only available guardian for a younger sibling.

"Of course, the high school tragedy. She'll be out soon." the woman replied and motioned toward the hard plastic waiting chairs.

Trent turned and reluctantly sat down; a million scenarios passed through his mind -- high school tragedy? What the hell happened?

Trent was on the verge of a stress-induced panic attack when Jane finally appeared, wrapped in a coarse grey blanket. She shuffled out slowly behind a detective. Her face was pale and void of any discernable emotion. Trent observed a faint mist of dried blood on her left cheek. He stood and enveloped her in his arms he was thankful that she seemed physically unscathed, he felt her slim frame shudder as she spoke into his chest.

Although muffled there was no denying what she had said. "Daria's dead."

***

Georgia led Daria into the Waffle House and motioned her toward a booth seat while she proceeded to the counter. Daria stood a few feet away from the table that was occupied by, whom Daria assumed, were her new colleagues and fellow Reapers. The three seemed not to have noticed her.

The elder of the three, the dark haired, middle aged man that Georgia had described earlier as Rube, sat in the corner doing a crossword. Roxy, a short, dark-skinned woman, slowly sipped her coffee as she perused a thick file. Mason, a tall, scruffy man in his mid twenties who sat opposite of Roxy eyed the discarded breakfast in the middle of the table.

"Roxy darlin' you finished with that?" He asked in a thick English accent before reaching over to grab a strip of bacon without waiting for a reply.

Without missing a beat, Roxy grabbed her fork and stabbed at his outstretched hand. The prongs plunged through the back of his palm and into the table top. Daria flinched and her eyes grew wide as she stared at them.

Mason cried out in pain. "Oh sweet Jesus Christ Roxy! What the fuck was that for? That bloody hurt." he whined as he pulled the cutlery item out of his hand and wiped the blood off. He held his hand up and turned it as he inspected the wound. Daria watched in amazement as the lesion knitted itself back together before her eyes. By the time Georgia returned with a takeout coffee, the only evidence of the encounter was a small streak of blood on the table. The older man seemed to have not noticed the ordeal at all.

Roxy said, "Mason, I'm not in the damn mood; I've had a fucked up night dealing with a bullshit investigation over at the high school. The principal is suing a major cosmetics company over the death of a student and it doesn't help that the girl's mother is a hard assed lawyer that's suing them both." She sighed and gave a small chuckle. "It was a pretty bloody death; you would have enjoyed it."

"Excuse me?" Daria spoke for the first time since she had entered. All four Reapers looked at her with varying levels of interest.

Rube closed his paper, looked up at Daria and smiled warmly. "Ahh Daria, how you holding up, kiddo?"

Daria's stomach twisted at the use of her father's pet name, but was determined not to let it show.

"So this is her? The one that's replacing Daisy?" Mason asked with a mournful tone.

Rube formally introduced himself and the others before he turned to George. "You and the screw-up take her to the funeral parlour, watch the autopsy and stick around for the funeral. Don't fuck up."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Daria peered down through the murky skylight onto the examination table below as her cold, lifeless corpse was processed by the ancient pathologist. The octogenarian licked his thin lips nervously and mopped the slight glean on his tissue-paper thin brow. He held a voice recorder to his mouth and continued to narrate.

Daria winced at the sound of a bone saw as it sliced her ribcage. She thought it funny that, in the years of medical advancement of the human race; the procedures for post-mortem examination had been scarcely changed.

The last twenty four hours had been surreal. Coming to terms with her abrupt demise had proven to be the first in a long line of vexatious occurrences. She found the indifference shown by her two companions to be extremely irksome. Daria was pulled out of her reverie and back to the darkened rooftop on which she stood, well, slightly hovered, by a loud snap of her breastbone from beneath.

"I don't see the point in the autopsy, it's pretty clear that the cause of death was a sharp-force traumas through the head and chest cavity," Daria deadpanned.

"Yeah, but you have to admit; watching your own autopsy is pretty fucking cool." Georgia turned to Daria with a fiendish smile.

Daria sighed. She hated to admit it, but it was cool watching herself being torn apart and put back together. Although she found it depressing that the first man to see her fully undressed was the one that was readying her for burial. One thought resonated through her mind. _Don't try and cop a feel you old necrophiliac bastard._

They sat in silence for the remainder of the procedure, When the pathologist started to sew her body back together Daria inched back away from the large window.

"Are we done yet?" Daria looked pleadingly toward George and Mason; this was starting to feel too morbid, even for her.

"Still one more thing to go and the initiation is complete."

"Yeah, yeah, the funeral, and here I though the sorority initiations would be grueling."

In the morning sun, Daria paced the length of the drive trying to build up the courage to venture inside. She had spent the morning at the funeral home, watching loved ones mourn her. She thanked God her parents had opted for a closed casket. She was wracked with guilt over the pain and anguish her passing had put on her family and hoped they were okay. It seemed Jake had taken it the hardest; he had always been an emotional man with a quick temper and a tendency to drink too much. Daria hoped that he was able to control himself. Although sober at the service, she doubted that he was still in the same state, now the wake had begun.

Quinn appeared to be coping as well as to be expected, an apparent united sabbatical was taken for all four members of the Fashion Club. Daria could just make out their slim frames through the window in Quinn's room, and was glad that her sister had some level of support.

Daria's inherited quick temper flared as she recalled her mother's behavior during the end of the service.

_The funeral director stopped abruptly as the faint ring tone could be heard, all eyes directed on Helen as she hurried out into the lobby. "Eric this isn't the time...I know I told you...WHAT?...No no, yes you're right...those bastards......."  
_  
_"One day, one day. She couldn't go one day without working."_ Daria seethed as she quickened her pace momentarily.

Daria had yet to see Jane. Trent was at the funeral home and she assumed Jane was too; the chance to see Jane was the driving force that compelled her to stay. Both Georgia and Mason had let her be, Georgia was inside and she had watched the later follow Trent to the furthest point on the boundary of the yard as he sparked up a smoke; from what she knew of Trent and what she had been told of Mason she was willing to bet the smoke contained something other than tobacco.

She stopped pacing, turned toward the house and inhaled deeply.

"Well here goes nothing." She muttered.

---

Jane had been the last to leave the funeral home and had given Trent instructions to drive to Daria's without her because she needed time alone to process. She stood in the empty room of the funeral home next to the dark wood mahogany casket and withdrew a portrait of Daria and herself. She peered around the room to make sure she was alone and slowly inched the lid of the casket open. She pushed the small sketch through the crack and closed it. She patted the lid softly as a small tear ran down her cheek.

"Another time Amiga." she whispered, as she left the home and started towards the Morgendorffer abode.

Jane was two houses away when she looked up and saw her; a petite brunette pacing the length of the driveway. Jane rubbed her eyes, as she stood frozen to the spot and a wave of anger surged through her. She proceeded over to confront her, the young woman who wore thick circular framed glasses, a green jacket, black combat boots and a mid thigh black pleated skirt.

"**WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?**" Jane yelled as she crossed the street, her long legs covered the ground in a few quick paces.

Daria turned to Jane.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Jane continued in a hostile tone.

"You, you can see me?" Daria asked bewildered.

"Of course I can see you, you better get out of here before anyone else sees you! Do you think it's funny? Dressing up like it's a damned Halloween party? Or did someone put you up to this? Sandi? Whatever she's paying I'll double it if you piss off right now." Jane's voice cracked with rage and her eyes threatened tears.

"Money..." Daria uttered barely audible.

"What? So this is a gag and she's paying you. I knew she was a bitch. How much? Enough for the latest Jimmy Choo's? Or a vacation house on the coast?" Jane shook her head and laughed in disbelief, tears now streamed down her face.

"Vacation house," Daria mused. "The Montana Cabin fund, under the bed, it's yours."

Jane stood stunned. Daria had never told anyone about her stash of money, at least not its location. "Who are..."

---

Georgia had heard the woman's voice over the din of the guests in the house and had gone outside to investigate. She watched the confrontation and collected Mason from the stoner in the backyard.

"Aww, shit," she breathed as she walked over to the two girls trying to remember Daria's last name; Morganraff...no Morgandopp... no...

"Morgan." she cried as she laid a hand gently on Daria's shoulder and began to lead her away. "I'm so sorry Miss," she called over her shoulder to Jane as the three Reapers walked down the road.

Jane watched the three strangers walk to the red Mustang parked down the road. _Who was that girl and how did she know about the fund?_

Daria peered at her reflection in the car window and raised a hand to her face. A stranger stared back.

"This is freaking weird..." Daria muttered in disbelief.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

*********** (A/N: If this were actually been seen- the reader/viewer would see Daria as normal)

Daria watched Jane and Trent shrink into the distance as the Mustang drove away. She turned, slumped into her seat and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the in rear view mirror; a stranger stared back with a mirroring expression of bewilderment. Of all the things that dying entailed, this freaked her out the most.

They shared the same eyes, but there were many discernable differences. The mirrored girl's chin was more angular, her cheekbones a little more prominent. Daria's lips remained although she seemed to have been blessed with Quinn's nose.

"Freaks you out, doesn't it?" George turned back to Daria briefly as she drove.

Daria removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes in exhaustion, then looked up at George and Mason. She realized that she was able to see without her glasses quite easily. She sighed and placed them back on the bridge of her nose defiantly before she addressed her two companions.

"Who decides what we look like?"

"Mason once told me it's what you're inner child would have looked like if they were to have grown up into an adult." George smiled. "Mine looks like a crack whore; looks like you lucked out, she's pretty."

Daria glowered slightly and opted to ignore the last comment; she hadn't spent eighteen years ignoring the fashion industry, to be snuffed out by oversized grooming paraphernalia and replaced by a fashion-fiend clone.

"So, do I see you as you were or what you are now?" Daria asked slowly, her brow furrowed slightly as she tried to get things straight in her head.

Mason turned from the front passenger seat and smiled. "As we were, only the living see us like that." He pointed to the rear view mirror.

"So, that's why Jane could see me? Why she was so mad? She thought I was just some chick dressed up like me?" Daria asked her eyes widening with the realization, Mason nodded.

"No wonder she looked so confused..." Daria mused softly to herself, as she turned her attention to the passing Lawndale scenery.

***

"Hey Janey, are you okay?" Trent asked quietly, as he approached her.

Jane jumped the sound of Trent's voice snapped her out of her stunned silence. "Did you know that guy?"

Trent shook his head slowly. "Nah, but he had some good weed..."

"You're high?" Jane voice squeaked in disbelief.

"Hey," Trent started defensively. "If I have to console Mr. M. I need some assistance... So anyway, who was that chick? Is everything okay? You were screaming like a banshee." Trent repeated his question and looked at Jane with concern.

"I don't know, she said something..." Jane trailed off, as she watched the red Mustang turn the corner out of sight.

"I figured as much...Hey, I scream like a banshee, coz you said somethin' to me...hmmm, nah." Trent shook his head and smiled warmly at Jane. He slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. "Come on, Daria's dad showed me where he hides his stash. I'll get you a drink." The two Lane siblings walked into the Morgendorffer house together.

"Maybe two, I've had a weird day." Jane replied.

***

Jane stood and scrutinized Daria's bedroom door. She halted slightly as she slowly turned the handle, and then willed her arm to open it. She inhaled deeply and pushed, the door breezed open with a slight creak and Jane entered the room. She surveyed its contents. Everything was just as it had been three days prior when she had last visited Daria; a few books lay strewn across the floor, a forgotten sock under her computer desk, an empty glass next to the idle computer. The power still connected, Jane could hear the faint hum of the computer's fan as it sat on standby. She slowly inched her way over to the desk and flicked the mouse, the black screen flashed to life. A white document page emblazoned the screen with a short paragraph at the top:

_Melody's faced hardened as she observed the lifeless form in front of her; she kicked out at his feet eliciting a small groan._

"Thank God," she sighed. "He's only worth half the ransom if he's dead."

Jane smiled fondly as she read Melody's unfinished foray. She turned and eyed the unmade bed in the opposite corner. She walked over and knelt beside it, pursing her lips as she looked at the small gap between the floor and the frame with anticipation.

"Come on Lane, just reach your hand in feel around; prove that the girl was a complete nutcase." She exhaled loudly, and reached her hand out; it faltered inches from the gap. "But...what if she's right? What if... Oh hell."

Jane bent down on all fours and stuck her hand under the bed. She felt around for a box like object. After several moments, Jane felt the search was fruitless and the girl was truly full of it. She prematurely breathed a sigh of relief; as she began to withdraw her hand, she heard the door creak open once again. She jumped slightly at the thought of being caught, shoulder deep, under Daria's bed. She froze as her hand brushed the corner of a small shoebox.

Quinn entered the room and glanced around furtively, before her eyes rested on Jane still frozen in place on the floor.

"Oh, it's just you." Quinn walked into the room and sat on the bed. "I thought one of the guests was creeping around in here." She explained and laid her hands in her lap. She picked at her thumbnail absently and directed her eyes to Jane.

Jane pulled the box out from under the bed and sat beside Quinn. She cradled the battered cardboard shoebox on her lap and her fingers idly tapped the sides.

"What's that?" Quinn asked, as her nose screwed slightly.

"A shoebox." Jane replied simply, Quinn raised her eyebrows and shot Jane a look of annoyance.

"The Montana Cabin fund, I guess?" Jane replied earnestly.

"So, she really was hoarding all her money. I thought she was kidding." Quinn said.

"You...you didn't know about this, or where she had it hidden?" Jane asked apprehensively.

Quinn shook her head in return.

"Daria's wardrobe-- her clothes, do you know how many sets of clothes she had?" Jane asked quickly, as she walked to the cupboard and threw the doors open.

"Four...now, she had five but..." Quinn replied uneasily.

"But...but, what? Where's the fifth set?" Jane asked frantically, as she counted the items that hung in Daria's cupboard.

"The fifth set...The fifth...that was set she wore to school that day." Quinn's voice cracked and she inhaled deeply to calm herself.

Jane turned and looked at Quinn. Jane's arms hung limp at her sides, as she slid to the floor. "I'm sorry, I...I...I don't know, I think I better leave. I've got to work through a few things." She said, as she rose to her feet. She handed the box to Quinn as she walked to the door. Quinn raised a hand to it and pushed it back.

"You keep it, I got a feeling she'd have wanted you to have it anyway." Quinn smiled as she stood and the two girls left the room.

***

Jane was confused; her expedition into Daria's room to confirm her suspicions had raised more questions than answers. The girl she had spoken with bore many similarities to the Morgendorffer/ Barksdale clan; a long lost cousin or forgotten sister maybe? But that didn't excuse her audacity to show up in Daria's attire. How had she known the location of the money or of its existence? Her mind wandered back to the encounter and she recalled the surprise shown on the girls face as if she hadn't expected to be seen...

Jane collected her boozy brother from the lounge and she and Trent walked home in a contemplative silence. Jane resolved to find the girl and have her questions answered.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Daria stood alone outside the large Payday complex; her eyes firmly set on the glass double doors that would seal her fate. She mentally braced herself; this was it, today was the day she was going to take her first life.

"I hope it's not going to be messy, I should have worn a duster." She deadpanned, as she surveyed the full parking lot.  
Daria looked at the small yellow Post-It in her hand. An unneeded gesture she had the details committed to memory.

N. Johanssen.  
Payday Discount Warehouse.  
E.T.D 12:05 p.m.

Rube had explained that they were given a first initial, a last name, a location and an Estimated Time of Death to go on; the rest was pure detective work, as far as she could gather.

"Use your powers of deduction to spot your Reap, just look for the risk factors to narrow your search. Like Nancy Drew." Rube had said.

It was funny; she didn't feel like Nancy Drew and she was willing to bet Nancy Drew never had to take an innocent life.

It had been a week since she had joined the ranks of the undead, and she had been informed that morning, over an obligatory breakfast of waffles, that she would have her first solo Reap. Daria glanced at her watch, shook her head and walked into the store. She racked her brain to come up with a way to find her N. Johanssen, before they bit the big one.

The store was extremely crowded and it was proving to be damn near impossible for Daria to find her mark. She sighed defeated and sunk down onto a courtesy bench in the front of the store. A loud hum echoed through the store as the sound of the loud speaker clicked.

"Good morning customers, Payday wishes to inform the owner of a blue '90 Toyota Camry, registration XQV-145 that they have left their head lights on. Thank you."

A slight smile pulled at Daria's lips, a plan now formulated. Daria walked to the customer information desk at the front of the store and waited for the clerk to see her. He turned to address her she vaguely remembered his face from school, one of the fashion clubs fans. He tossed his head back to clear his hair from his face and gave Daria a seductive smile.

"Hey there cutie."

_'Oh God, I can't believe I'm actually going to do this...' _Daria thought, as she took a lock of hair between her fingers and twirled it.

"Hey there, I'm sorry to be a bother, but silly 'ole me forgot where I was meant to meet my friend." Daria started.

"Oh, you can be my friend and hang with me." The boy smiled.

Daria suppressed the biting sarcastic remark that danced on her tongue, and continued. "I was wondering if you could call out their name; so they can find me here?" She did her best Brittney impression, as her voice inflected at the end of her sentence.

"Aww, sure thing babe." he crooned as Daria told him the name.

As she walked away she grimaced and gave an involuntary shudder. _'Ugh I feel so dirty, I wonder if they sell industrial strength mind bleach here? This better work', _Daria thought to herself as she returned to the courtesy bench and sat.

Daria scanned the mass of bodies for her N. Johanssen. She gazed at her watch there were ten minutes to go, she sighed rather audibly and looked back toward the crowd and spotted her. N. Johanssen. Daria thought the name had seemed familiar when she received the Post-It that morning. The truth be told she was amazed Mrs. N. Johanssen was still alive; the last time Daria had seen her, she was one chocolate bar away from a sugar induced coma or heart attack.

The large, corpulent woman ambled slowly toward the front desk, and Daria rose from her seat to greet her. Daria mentally recited the mantra that had been circling her mind all morning: _Just a simple touch, that's all it takes then sit back and wait; don't interfere_. Daria walked over to the woman and winced inwardly at the sight of her; her short dark hair glistened and sat flat against her scalp, her forehead gleaned; a few small droplets of perspiration had beaded and slowly ran down the woman's face.

"You...Call...Called my... Name?" Mrs. Johansen managed between her panting; her southern twang dominated her speech as she regained her composure.

"Uh, Mrs. Johanssen? Mrs. K. Johanssen?" Daria found her voice faulted slightly as she began.

"No sweetie, N; Noelene Johanssen," she said.

"Oh, I'm sorry for wasting your time ma'am, I'm looking for Karen Johanssen." Daria gave her a sad smile.

"Oh, well. Since you've wasted my time you mind passing me a shopping cart? I'm gonna need a lil' help getting back to the sample aisle before twelve." Noelene Johanssen waved a flabby arm toward the row of shopping carts behind her. Daria turned and jumped.

"Eep!" the sound had escaped Daria's mouth in shock, before she had been able to stifle it.

Daria had come face to face with, what she assumed, was a Graveling; an impish creature, sporting a violaceous hue on its rough, scaly skin. Its yellowed eyes met Daria's, as it drew a long boney finger to its lips in a gesture of silence.

"Hurry Girlie, there's only five minutes left." the woman called impatiently.

The graveling slid into the cart and sat, as Daria wheeled it over to Mrs Johanssen.

"Thanks sweetie."

"No problems." Daria muttered and brushed her hand across the woman's bulky shoulder, a blue shimmering wisp of smoked travelled from Mrs Johanssen's body to Daria.

Daria had planned to wait in the car park, with the hopes that the soul would find her, or better yet, accept her fate and move on unassisted. Unfortunately Daria found her morbid curiosity getting the better of her. When she had been alive, after her first encounter with Mrs Johanssen, Daria had envisioned a health complication would take the gluttonous woman out. However Daria's Reaper division dealt with outside influences, namely murder, suicide and accidents. Daria found herself compelled to follow the large form through the crowd.

---

Noelene Johanssen leaned heavily on the shopping cart as she hurried, to the best of her ability, to the back of the store. The scent of the sample station grew stronger with each step she ignored the pain in the left side of her abdomen and the damp stickiness she felt down her back and neck as she pushed on. She silently cursed her misfortune of mistaken identity that had taken her away from the pole position she had acquired earlier.

She turned the last corner and came face to face with the antagonistic middle-aged man she had been hoping to evade. They stood face to face, their shopping carts positioned at adjacent angles.

"You." she grunted.

"Don't THINK you're GOing to shUT me out aGAIN with that obESE ass THIS time!" Mr DeMartino replied through clenched teeth.

Daria viewed the encounter from her vantage point a few feet away. The Graveling that had remained seated in the woman's cart now stood and straddled the ends of the two carts effectively locking them together.

Mrs. Johanssen and Mr. DeMartino struggled to free their respective carts. After a few minutes, Mrs. Johanssen gave one final push, using the mass of her weight to disconnect Mr DeMartino from his cart. The abrupt force sent him sprawling backwards into the confectionary self-serve bowsers and caused an avalanche of candy to flood the floors. Mrs. Johanssen had abandoned her trolley and was now running toward the tasting tables with Mr. DeMartino in hot pursuit.

Daria watched in amazement at the speed that the heavy set woman was able to produce. Unfortunately, it wasn't quick enough. The stray candy had spread quicker than the woman and had gotten under foot. Mr D. was the first to go; his legs skidded backwards as he face-planted the hard linoleum floor. His out stretched hand clipped the back of Mrs. Johanssen's dress and caused her to topple.

Daria winced as the echoed thump of her body hitting the ground brought a silence to the store. The built up momentum she had gathered launched her the extra few feet needed to reach the cooking station. She collected it with her, as she slid to a halt against the wall. Daria watched as the contents of the station; a deep fryer, a large plate of deep fried food substitutes and a container of tooth picks, flew into the air, then rained down upon Mrs. Johanssen.

Daria took a few tentative steps toward the large mess. She saw the struggled actions of Mrs. Johanssen as she clawed at her neck; her face started to take on a blue tinge as she attempted to gasp for breath. Daria turned and walked back to her previous spot, unsure of how to react.

Mrs. Johanssen's soul appeared beside her moments later.

"Sweet Jesus, Am I dead?" She asked incredulously.

"I'm afraid so." Daria said in a flat tone.

"The doc always told me that my food addiction would be the end of me, I just never thought it would be so..." The woman seemed to search for an appropriate word.

"Sudden?" Daria offered.

"Literal," She replied. "So what now?"

"Umm I don't know. You have to move on." Daria shrugged.

"Like heaven?" She asked, as the aisle appeared to burst with light a large buffet style room appeared and the woman walked toward it.

Daria scanned the shop if anyone had seen the culinary apparition they gave no clues that they cared. Daria sighed and walked out of the store into the parking lot, her mind registered the sound of an ambulance in the far distance, as she let her feet take her through the town as far away from the store as possible.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The warm summer breeze glided around Daria's bared shoulders, it encircled her as she plodded along the pavement; head down with her arms folded loosely across her abdomen. The vision of Mrs Johanssen as she swept across the floor of Payday, on a cascading kaleidoscopic sea of candy, repeated once again in her conflicted mind. She was unsure of how she felt; guilt was one of the prominent emotions. The guilt of her involvement in the death of an innocent woman, but more so, the guilt of not feeling guilty enough. She was a Grim-Reaper, death; proverbial scythe at the ready and it scared her that she was more than a little okay with that.

Daria glanced at her watch; 5:30pm. She had lost herself for near five hours as she wandered the streets of Lawndale. She surveyed her surroundings and cursed silently, as her eyes rested on the Morgendorffer residence that loomed in front of her. Jake's blue Lexus stood alone in the drive, Daria frowned; her mother was usually home by now. Her eyes swept the deserted street as she crept toward the back of the house. She paused at the kitchen window and hazarded a look inside.

Jake sat alone at the kitchen table and appeared frail and slightly unkempt. His broad shoulders collapsed, cheeks slightly drawn highlighted by peppered stubble. The table had been set for three; identical plates of lasagna waited. Daria noted that her chair had been removed from the table and now sat in the far corner of the dining room.

Jake's somber demeanor perked when he heard sound of the front door as it closed, he sat straighter in his chair and watched the hall with eager anticipation.

"Hey honey," Jake started, his voice overly enthused. "I made us all..."His voice dropped slightly as he observed his youngest daughter enter the kitchen. "Oh...Hey, kiddo" he made no attempt to hide the disappointment in his voice

"Hey...Mom's working late again huh..." Quinn stated mournfully.

Jake nodded and looked down at the food. "You know how your Mom is, it's a big case, and it means a lot to her."

Quinn sighed and took a seat; she pushed away the plate with disgust. "They all mean a lot to her..." she rolled her eyes as she set her elbows on the table.

"Quinn, honey."

"I know Daddy, it's Daria's case, but... I mean we all lost her, and Mom's way of coping is making me think we're losing her too." Quinn inhaled deeply, trying to calming herself.

Jake pulled his chair closer to Quinn's, enveloped her in his arms and he drew her into a comforting bear hug.

Daria had seen enough; she slipped away from the window, once clear she began to run through the darkened streets. She hoped that the physical distance she was able to put between them, would equate to an emotional separation.  
She had finally stopped and collapsed in the town park, on an old dilapidated bench. As the pounding in her ears began to subside, she could distinguish the heavy footsteps of someone running toward her.

"Je-sus luv, what the bloody hell are you running from?" The familiar British accent managed between pants.

Daria looked up to see Mason couched as he regained his breath, she shrugged in response.

"You know Rube's had me out lookin' for you all afternoon; to make sure you're okay." Mason stood and took Daria's hand and gently pulled her to a standing position.

"I'm fine." Daria replied stoically.

Mason cocked an eyebrow and put an arm around her shoulders. "C'mon, we'll debrief the Mason way." He shot a cheeky grin toward Daria, but it went unnoticed; her eyes set on the cracked pavement in front.

---

The smell of stale beer hung in the hazy, smoked filled room. Daria grimaced as she felt the sole of her boot cling to the sticky floor.

"This place is disgusting." she murmured, as she took a seat at the bar next to Mason.

The bartender set two drinks in front of them, Daria eyed them cautiously.

"Mason, I'm not twenty one..."

"Love, you're dead. You're never going to be twenty one." He replied, as he took the glass in his hand and brought it to his lips. He finished the drink in a practiced, fluid movement.

Daria hesitated slightly and eyed the drink; a tall glass of clear alcohol. She shrugged slightly and held the drink to her lips and repeated Mason's actions. She retched as she swallowed feeling the warm sensation travel through her body.

"This is your way of debriefing?" Daria shot a questioning look toward Mason, who had ordered another round.

"What? You think talking about it really helps? Trust me Daria, this is much more effective than the psycho bullshit babble, unless you need to off load... Georgie's like that, can't shut her up. You want to talk about it then?"

"It's just... I feel guilty, I mean she didn't do anything wrong. Why her?"

"Why not her? Why you, Why me?"

"Well, I was in the wrong place at the right time it seems, so was Mrs. Johanssen; deaths plan and all. You? You took a six inch masonry drill, put it to your temple and drilled a hole in your head as a way of achieving a permanent high; you kinda asked for it." A small smile slipped across Daria's mouth.

A silence befell them as Daria contemplated her next words. She knew that contact with your family was forbidden, but the urge to tell someone was growing.

"I went by my house today; that's why I was running." Daria blurted out, she kept her eyes firmly set on the full glass in front of her and waited for the wrath.

"Took you long enough." Mason's voice bore a sympathetic tone.

"You're not going to tell Rube, get me in trouble?" she looked up; her brow stitched in confusion.

Mason scoffed. "Yeah right, me? No. Don't tell Roxy though...So you try to speak to them?"

"No, I was looking through the window."

"Best not to try talk to them about your old life anyway. But..."

Daria raised an eyebrow.

"But, that's not saying you can't talk to them pretending to be someone else; Morgan for example." Mason flashed a smile.

"I...I can do that?"

"Make the best of your situation. When life gives you lemons..."

"You make lemonade." Daria dead panned.

"Pfft, no. You drink tequila, give me your hand." Mason chuckled as he took Daria's hand in his and bent over the bar to retrieve a few wedges of lemon. He wiped one over the heel of her thumb. He then poured a little salt over the area and handed her the shot glass and lemon.

"Go, on like this." He prepared himself, the proceeded to lick, sip, and suck.

***

The effects of the alcohol were minor but apparent; Daria felt the emotional load that she had been carrying lifted. She was amazed at the amount she was able to consume without feeling drunk Mason had informed her that it was her new 'reaper metabolism' at play. The ability heal fast wasn't the only thing it did apparently it had a drug and alcohol clause, that enabled them to consume vast quantities of alcohol and hardly feel the consequences. Daria failed to see the logic in imbibing at all.

Mason stood and excused himself; he had a reap in the back alley and he was running late. Daria sat in silence and waited for his return. She picked up her unfinished drink and swirled its contents, watching the depleted ice cubes circle the cup.  
She didn't notice the dark haired young man approach the bar beside her.

"Excuse me, miss?"

Daria's blood ran cold, as she turned to face the familiar speaker.

"Hi, I'm Tom, Tom Sloane."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Tom extended his hand as an introduction toward Daria and smiled. The shock of having Tom appear by her side in a grungy brew pub had rendered her speechless. She eyed his outstretched hand cautiously, and took it gingerly with her own.

"Morgan." Daria replied slowly, as she withdrew her hand and placed it on her lap.

"I haven't seen you around before, are you new in town?" He enquired, his emerald green eyes flashed; he oozed the old money charm she had familiarized herself with in the months prior to her death.

Daria's mind reeled. "_He is not trying to hit on me."_'

"Kinda." Daria replied dismissively, as she faced the front of the bar.

"Oh... Look, the reason I came over here is that I'm supposed to meet someone, and I'm a little late. I was wondering if you had seen her. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes... She wears a pair of combat boots just like yours." He pointed to her feet and smiled sadly. "Well not exactly the same as those...Her name's Jane."

A sorrowful look flashed quickly across Daria's features as she held a hand up to adjust her glasses; a habitual action she had yet to break, she had discarded her beloved frames, a few days prior. Before she had time to answer the woman in question walked into the pub and spied Tom at the bar. Daria turned her attention back to Tom and pointed to Jane.

"That her?"

Tom turned. "Thanks Morgan." he called over his shoulder as he strolled over to Jane.

---

Tom led Jane to a quiet booth seat in the far corner of the bar and sat down. Jane stood at the end of the table her arms folded protectively across her chest.

"What do you want?" she asked vehemently, she was not in the mood for social niceties.

"Please Jane, sit down." Jane slid into the opposite seat and waited. "I just wanted to see how you were, let you know that I'm here for you. I know what you're going through."

Jane scoffed. "That's a cop out and you know it. How would you know what I'm going through? You weren't even at the funeral, Tom."

"Jane, you know Fielding graduates a week before Lawndale. I couldn't get out of it."

"Couldn't or wouldn't? It's all about keeping the family name safe, right?"

"Jane, please," Tom pleaded.

Jane looked at Tom, he _had_ gone to the trouble to look her up, to make sure she was okay; in fact, he was the only one that had, beside Trent. She sighed defeated and looked up at him. "I'm okay I guess. Thanks."

"So, did you get into BFAC?"

"I never submitted my portfolio." Jane looked down at her hands resting on the table.

"You could still..."

"I'm not going." Jane interjected. "Why be taught by two bit hacks that couldn't make it in the art world as real artists?" Jane reasoned.

"Look, my dad has a contact at BFAC; I could get him to..."

"I don't need your charity or your pity." Jane quipped, interrupting Tom again.

"This isn't charity and it sure as hell isn't pity, Jane. I thought you might need a friend to talk to, that's all." Tom's voice grew stern.

"I have plenty of friends I can talk to, thank you very much."

"Jane, Daria was pretty much it."

Jane stood and leaned over the table, her face inches from Tom's; he felt her hot, rasping breath graze his cheeks. Her eyes narrowed; her seething anger was evident.

"Go to hell Tom. I get your game, inviting me down here, in front of 'my kind' so they can witness your gallantry. The noble Thomas Sloane, descending from Crewe Neck to take time out to make sure poor Jane Lane is okay. Trying to buy my loyalty with offers of a college education 'cause I can't get in on my own merit. You really are just a trust fund brat. I don't need your connections, I don't need your pity and I sure as hell don't need your friendship. Get out of here and go back to your country club and your life of luxury."

Jane's voice had gotten considerably louder and all eyes rested on the feuding couple in the corner. Nobody noticed the slightly built, auburn haired woman slip through the crowd and out into the night.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The bright morning sun glistened across the large pond, casting streams of reflected light into the green canopy of the large oaks above. Two children sat upon a small jetty; their feet dangled in the shallows of the water as they cast out their fishing poles. A red kite danced across the crystal blue sky in the warm breeze; the young girl it was tethered to squealed with glee as she ran along below it. It was a perfect summer's day and Daria couldn't care less.

She sat in the shade of one of the oak trees as she bided her time before her next reap. She withdrew the small piece of crumpled yellow paper and glared at; she knew the hit, she knew the address; it was her mother's law firm and her care factor was hovering around zero.

There was a little over half an hour before the death and it would take her almost that long to get there. Daria stood and brushed off her short black denim skirt and adjusted her dark green vest as she set off toward her mother's law firm.

Daria sat in the small waiting room as she plotted her next move. She ignored the occasional scrutinizing looks she was given from her mother's assistant. Daria had had no trouble convincing Marianne that she was a witness to the high school 'mishap' and she had been called in to give her report on the event. She hadn't lied; she was a witness, and had inside info to boot. A slight smile ghosted her lips as she imagined the outburst if her account was given.

"Yes, I saw the accident; I was the accident. I'm_ really _Daria Morgendorffer in someone else's body, and if you don't believe that, wait it gets better; the cause for the accident wasn't negligence. It was caused by these little purple creatures called Gravelings, but they're invisible and only me and a few of my new friends can see them. So you're going to have to trust me on that..."

Daria stood and walked around the perimeter of the room. She glanced at the photos and news article cut outs that had been hung on the walls; most of them boasted the firm's excellence. She winced at the sound of her mother's voice permeated the adjacent room.

"MARIANNE!"

The high strung woman jumped and frantically rushed to Helen's beckons, Daria followed and listened through the slight crack of the door.

"I need you to go into Eric's office and retrieve the two files for the Marcus case, then call the school and have Ms Li send over the agreement she had with the Evlon company, then I need you to have that police woman that was in here yesterday fax over the statements she took from the students the morning of the accident at the school. Oh and Marianne? Refill the toner in the fax machine first." Helen ordered.

Daria stepped back from the door and followed Marianne to the supply room. Once Marianne was clear of the door, Daria pulled the door shut and barricaded it; trapping the frazzled secretary inside. Daria glanced at her watch there were five minutes to go.  
She walked down the hall quickly as she found the right door and knocked, an invitation to enter was called and Daria entered the room.

Eric Schrecter cast his eyes upon the young female that had entered his office and he raised a hand to his ear piece.

"I'll have to call you back." He said uncertainly, and removed the hands free head set from his ear. "Can I help you?"

"I, ah... I need the files for the Marcus case." Daria's voice faulted slightly. "For Helen, I'm...her new intern." She affirmed.

Eric studied Daria, and raised an eyebrow. He turned toward his desk and retrieved two thick manila folders. He walked over to Daria and held them out; Daria saw her chance and brushed a hand over his, taking his soul with the files.

"At least your prettier than the last one, but do yourself a favor and lose those boots; they do nothing for your ensemble." He flicked his fingers and motioned toward her outfit.

"Hmm. sure." Daria suppressed the urge to bite back and slid out the door to wait.

Eric watched the young female leave the room; a pursed smile donned his face as he checked out the woman's backside. He proceeded over to his desk and sat in the large office chair and unlocked his bottom draw. He retrieved a small silver tray, covered with a fine white power and retrieved two silver, custom made implements from his breast pocket.

Daria waited patiently at the door of Eric's office she hoped that no one would feel the urge to stretch their legs and walk around the office block. She heard a muffled gurgle and a high pitched squeal of a male's voice and slid over to the door. She slowly turned the handle and slipped inside.

"Whoa, this is weird, that stuff is awesome. I've never had an out of body trip before." Eric looked in amazement around the room and rested his eyes on Daria.

"Hey, What are you doing here?" He asked.

"Um, you're dead," Daria informed him and waited for his reaction.

"What? Dead? I can't be dead. No. We just landed a huge case; I can't die yet. This is horrible." Eric moaned as he slumped at the table.

"There, there. Now, now." Daria dead panned as she patted his shoulder with unenthused force.

"Wait, that girl, was she? I mean, did she...Kill me?"

"That girl was me and no, no one killed you. You did that all by yourself." She pointed towards his corpse.

Eric's lifeless body sat in the large chair behind the desk; his head slumped forward and rested against his shoulder. An off-white sludge, oozed out of his slightly ajar mouth mixing with the river on blood that seeped from his nose.

"I OD'ed?" He asked incredulously, as he turned to Daria.

"Looks that way, doesn't it. So now you've accepted your death, you can go now."

"No, no, no, no. I'm not going anywhere I have to get the case from Morgendorffer. If she submits it by herself and I'm not here she'll get partner, and I've worked her too damn hard for her to be one."

"You better choose your next words carefully..." Daria warned.

"Why would you...Oh oh, I know who you are now. Helen's eldest. The smart, ugly one."

"Hey." Daria interjected.

"So, you're doomed to collect souls for eternity? Ha!"

"You know you really are an asshole." Daria muttered as she walked over to Eric's body and dug into his breast pocket.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

Daria pulled out Eric's wallet and waved it at him. Eric's eyes went wide.

"You can't steal from me." He protested helplessly.

"Too late, just think of it as severance pay. For three years of shitty frozen lasagna and forced family bonding time." She smirked at him as she pulled out the wad of hundred dollar notes, threw the considerably lighter wallet at the body, and strolled out the room.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"What do you mean you just left him there?" Rube folded the crossword section of the newspaper and set it down beside him. "Your job specifies that you take the soul and guide them into the afterlife." He leant forward and grasped his hands together, interlocking his fingers as he inhaled deeply and waited for her reply.

"In my defense Rube, he was an asshole." Daria replied flatly, as she attempted to justify her lack of professionalism.

"I don't care if he was Attila the fucking Hun! You do your job." Rube spoke through gritted teeth and his face grew red. "Fucking newbies, there's always something..." He took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Conspirators, the lot of you...At least you got him." He glanced up and met Daria's gaze. "You did reap him didn't you?"

"Yes." Daria replied defiantly.

"Good, so we can hopefully assume he was smart enough to get the idea."

Daria picked at her food; the sense of swollen joy that had embodied her over the past few hours ebbed, as she glanced at the other occupants of the booth. Georgia sat next to Rube, she avoided any noise or movement. Daria got the feeling she had been on the end of one of Rube's rampages before, and was glad this one wasn't directed at her. Mason sat beside Daria he had spilt the contents of a salt shaker onto the table and was now drawing pictures in it.

Daria heard Roxy before she saw her; her heavy boots thudded across the linoleum, as she approached the table.

"Jesus Christ George, again? I thought you were over the bullshit?" Roxy stood at the end of the table and glared at Georgia.

Georgia looked up at Roxy, her expression fell somewhere between guilt and annoyance. "What did I do this time?"

"The OD, at the law firm? You just left him there. Poor bastard's just drifting around."

"That wasn't mine -- that's Daria's mess." Georgia replied.

"I had a straggler before." Mason piped up. "Nudist. Had the biggest bloody balls you've ever seen."

"Mason." Rube warned. "You're not helping."

"Like two giant marbles in a sock, slapping up against his knees."

"Ugh, Mason." George cringed as she pushed her half eaten sandwich away.

Roxy eyed Mason and shook her head in disgust, then turned to Daria. "Well go on." She said impatiently, as she waved her hands at Daria to shoo her. She watched her leave 'Der Waffle Haus' then slid into her vacated seat.

Rube glanced toward Roxy as she sat and perused the menu. "Is he really still there?"

"The lawyer guy? Nah, I sent him along hours ago." Roxy chuckled. "Serves her right though."

Rube shot a disapproving look toward Roxy.

"What? She's gotta learn." She replied.

The darkened office block loomed in front of her; backlit by the dusky afternoon sky. The parking lot was empty, bar one solitary red SUV. Daria glanced at it as she approached the doors; of all the things her mother could be classified as, slacker was not one of them. She slipped quietly into the reception area of the building; she hoped she would catch the defiant soul of her mother's ex-boss, before she was caught.

The only light in the building seeped through a crack from her mother's office; slowly Daria approached the light source and peered in. Helen sat at her desk; head in hands as she drearily read through the mass of files in front of her. Reflected light illuminated her face, the once vibrant woman Daria had known now looked haggard and worn; the long hours at the office she had obviously been putting in, had taken their toll. Both Morgendorffer women were startled out of their respective reveries by a piercing wail of the office telephone; Helen jumped slightly and hit the speaker phone function.

"Helen Morgandorffer's office, Helen speaking." Helen donned her professional voice as she continued to read

"Oh, you're still there? Were you coming home for tea?" Quinn's voice floated over the phone.

"Oh hi sweetie, yes I'm still at the office, I... "

"Even after what happened?" Quinn interjected.

"Y...Yes, honey. How do you know what happened?" Helen's voice faltered slightly as she sat back in her chair and rubbed her temples.

"Marianne rang, she was pretty upset. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine darling, just catching up on some paperwork that's all. I'll be home around five, there's a lasagna in the freezer just..."

"Mom, it's six and there's no more food in the house."

"Oh, well order yourself a pizza. Is your father still there?" Her tone grew harder as she finished the sentence.

"Yeah, he's still in the living room. I still don't think he's left the house... Mom I..." Quinn's voice trailed off.

"Quinn, are you okay?"

"Yes, it's just I... never mind."

"If you're ringing to get an extension on your curfew..."

"No, I don't have a date tonight, I haven't since..."

"Then why don't you ring one of the girls, you should be with some friends."

"Friends...sure." Quinn's voice came, out barely above a whisper. "I better go, there's a call coming in, it must be Sandi... Bye Mom, come home soon, okay?"

"Sure thing honey, I just have to finish one last briefing."

The disconnection dial tone blared out of the small speaker; Helen sighed and hung up the room fell silent once again. Daria pulled away from the door and scanned the rest of the room; there was no sign of her charge. She cursed Roxy as she made her way to the front doors.

"The hell with Eric, the rotten bastard can stay here haunting the place, for all I care. Hell, it's probably his idea of heaven anyway," She mused to herself as she left the building and stepped into the muggy summer's night.

She had made it half a mile before Georgia and Mason had found her and explained that Eric had passed on hours earlier. Daria cursed as she jumped into the car, trying to erase the last half an hour; the miserable, fatigued appearance of her mother, the defeated crest-fallen tone of her sister. Reaping souls she could do; as surreal as it was, it's just the way it went, people die. It was the only certain thing in life. Putting up with being a stranger in her own town, going unrecognized by her best friend and family, downright sucked. She vowed right then and there, as the red convertible Mustang sped through the quiet streets of Lawndale, that she was going to do something about it.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The Lane residence exuded a peaceful silence; the only noises emitted came from the house as it eased into its foundations. Jane was thankful that Trent had gotten the band their first gig in over a month. She sat on her unmade bed and relished in the calm solitude, as she eyed the battered shoebox on the nightstand beside her. Her stomach still twisted with unease as to how she had found it; the Daria imposter had known where to look, she had known its exact location. The box had stayed where she had rested it two weeks prior after she had returned from Daria's wake; a sense of foreboding shook her to the core, each and every time she had examined it. A persistent rattle from the front door brought her back to reality and she ventured downstairs to welcome the intruder.

The paint chipped, heavy wooden entry door, creaked against its bearings as Jane unlatched and pulled it open to reveal her visitor. Jane smirked, stuck her head out and scanned the street in a comical manor, before she addressed the slim redhead on her doorstep.

"Get lost on your way to the mall again, Princess Grace?" Jane chided.

"Oh Jane, you're hilarious, you know that?" Quinn shot back.

"You're not here to check up on me too, are you?" Jane asked suspiciously, the feud between Tom and her from the previous night, was still raw.

"Tom? Yeah he called, mentioned that you were a little mad." Quinn replied, as she buckled under the weight of a large bag she carried.

"He told you?"

"Yeah, he called me this morning. Said he was worried about you."

"Yeah, right, he just wanted a clear conscience, 'cause he skipped out on the funeral." Jane scoffed and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Jane, he's hurting as well. He lost a friend too, you weren't the only one."

"She was my best friend, Quinn." Jane shot, her temper flared.

"And she was my sister, Jane." Quinn replied in an equal tone.

"Cousin don't you mean?" Jane spat with distain.

"You know what Jane? Fuck you. I came here to see how you were, thought you may want to talk to someone; or god forbid that_ I _wanted to talk with the girl Daria held in such high regard. I also brought you some of Daria's stuff. Since my dad has become a permanent fixture in the living room and my mom is putting in nineteen-hour days at the office, I have been given the responsibility to go through and organize Daria's stuff. I thought you might like them." Quinn dumped the bag on the step, turned and walked down the path her anger and frustration evident.

"Quinn, wait." Jane called out.

Jane's beckons went unheeded as Quinn continued down the path.

Jane picked up the heavy duffle bag and dragged it up to her room. She set it down with a thud and rummaged through the bag until she came to Daria's diary. She held it up and examined the loose worn spine of the leather bound book; a sad smile passed her lips, as she returned to her bed and began to read through the many musings of Daria's mind.

***

Jane awoke with a start to a reverberating shudder, followed by the heavy footsteps as someone scaled the stairs. She opened her bleary eyes and squinted, as a bright stream of light passed across the room through the open curtains and came to rest across her face. She sat up on her bed and wiped the remnants of sleep from her eyes, as her bedroom door swung open.

"Hey Janey, you wouldn't have two hundred bucks would you?" Trent asked as he leaned against the door, he rubbed his neck awkwardly.

"What happened this time?" She asked her words marred by a yawn.

"Max and Nick. Long story short; we're down an amp, need the cash to get it fixed, but we're all tapped out."

"Yeah I got a bit of cash, but I want it back."

"Cool, thanks Janey. Hey, what's in the bag?" He questioned as he passed through the room and sat beside her on the bed.

"Daria's things. Books, files, plans of world domination and mass destruction. You know..." Jane allowed a small smirk to grace her lips, as she looked up at Trent.

Trent smiled and his eyes drifted past Jane, they fixed on her nightstand. "Is that the shoebox you found, in Daria's room the other day; the one full of cash?"

"Yeah."

"How did you find it? Did she tell you it was there?"

"Nope... You wouldn't believe me if I told you..." She shook her head slightly.

"Try me."

"The day of the wake, I was late and when I got to Daria's house, a girl was standing on her front lawn; she was dressed exactly like Daria; glasses and all. That's why I was yelling, I thought at the time she was pulling a joke on Daria's family."

"Pretty tasteless joke, I think I remember seeing a girl; don't remember her though."

"It was weird, she reacted like she wasn't expecting to be seen, the only thing she said to me was that, 'the Montana Cabin fund is under the bed, it's yours'. Sure enough it was there. Daria never told anyone where it was, as far as I know, I mean it's not like she had a great deal of confidants in her life. I don't understand how that girl would know..."

"Is that why you're reading through her diaries? Trying to find your answer?"

"Mmm, so far the search is proving to be fruitless." She sighed and set the book down on the floor.

"You wanna come with me to the mall get the amp looked at? I'll spring for your breakfast."

Jane glanced at her clock, the red screen flashed one p.m. "You mean _I'll _spring for _your_ lunch?" She shot back as she stood and grabbed the shoebox.

Trent smiled and shrugged, leading the way to the car.

***

Daria had been rudely awoken by the incessant ringing of her cell phone. She cracked an eye and glared at the phone with contempt; she growled slightly as she shot an arm out, and brought the contraption to her ear.

"Mrmphf."

"Daria?"

"Anghth."

"Daria get up."

"What." She answered annoyed.

"Daria, it's Georgia, there's been a change of plans. I need you to meet me at Lawndale Mall, near the top escalator at three."

Daria mumbled an incoherent response and hung up the phone. Her first day off since she had become a reaper was no more; her plans to enjoy the serenity of her darken bedroom were now foiled. She glanced at her watch; she had a little more than an hour and a half to dress and ready herself for the afternoon's festivities.

***

Tad and Tricia Gupty stood side by side on the upmost level of the Lawndale Mall with mirroring expressions of glee, as they ate their plain vanilla, fat free, low calorie, frozen soy yogurt. The cause for their excitement rested with the Wilderness Society's booth erected at the top of the escalators. It was being run by an assortment of large furry, costumed animals that were threatened with extinction.

"Finally, the youth of today have realized their mass consumerism has contributed to the greenhouse effect and its connection to the depletion of many of the world's animal population." Tad looked at his sister and back to the charity booth in front of them.

"I just hope those costumes are made from all natural fibers and materials." Tricia replied. "Let's ask Daddy if we can aid the conservation of our earth, by making a donation." she exclaimed as she grabbed Tad's hand with enthused force.

The two children turned and crashed into their father's legs, causing them to spill onto the floor; their frozen yogurt sent asunder.

"Whoa there, Nelly! Oh, we should get a janitor to clean that up; we wouldn't want to cause an accident now would we?" Lester Gupty said to his two children as he helped them to their feet.

"But Daddy, we want to make a contribution to the wilderness conservation campaign." Tricia whined.

"Sure thing honey, but after we alert someone about this mess." Lester smiled at his eldest, he took a child's hand in each of his, and led them away.

***

The three suited animals congregated around the booth's counter, each removed their oversized heads that completed their costumes. Three sweat drenched teenaged male faces emerged.

"Damn it's hot, I could kill Phil at the moment; easy way to make a quick buck, he says. Lots of hotties to scope out; they love animals, he assures," The panda moaned as he mopped his forehead with the back of his paw.

"I'll say. I only took this job to get out of Camp Grizzly this year; at least I could swim there." The rhino agreed and squirted a stream of water into his mouth from a drink bottle.

The third, a gorilla, shifted his weight uncomfortably and scanned the crowd. "Where is he anyway? He's over an hour late. I gotta take a whizz and there has to be three of us here at all times."

The panda raised an arm and pointed toward the escalator. "Here he comes."

"About time." the gorilla sighed, and he hurried off into the crowd.

A fourth, plain clothed male, approached the booth; he apologized profusely for his tardiness. He proceeded to the back of the booth behind a screen, the large bulky duffle bag he had held over his shoulder was tossed with a thud. He stepped out moments later clad in a penguin costume and held a collection bucket in his hand.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Jane walked close to her brother, as the duo ventured into the busy mall. They both cringed at the sight of the hoards of school-aged children and teens. They narrowly missed being swept along by a flock of pre-pubescent females as they rushed past the Lane's on their way to the fashion district.

"Jesus, Trent. Remind me why I agreed to come here with you?" Jane shot a look of concern toward her brother.

"'Cause I said I'd buy you lunch." Trent looked down at Jane with a lopsided grin. "Plus, there's that new art store that's opened. I hear they have the biggest range of gouache in the state."

"Fine, but you owe me big time. So where's this music store?"

"Top floor, come on, the escalators are this way."

Jane saw Mr. O'Neil and Mr. DeMartino before they spotted her, unfortunately as she and Trent walked toward the bottom of the escalators their paths entwined.

"Jane, how nice of you to show your support and patriotism for Memorial Day." Mr. O'Neil said joyously as he clasped his hands together and approached her with a large smile plastered across his face.

"Actually..."

"Timothy, WHERE did you leave those WHIMPY balloons? Those SAPPY CHILDREN you enlisted SEEMS to have misPLACED them." Mr. DeMartino called as he approached his colleague and former students. "Ah Miss Lane, oh, and this couldn't be the all time, world's biggest SLACKER, Mr. TRENT Lane? Still riding the pipe dream that you and your PATHETIC band mates will hit the big time?"

"Ah, Mr. D. Mr. O. " Trent nodded as a greeting, he seemed to have ignored Mr. DeMartino's chiding and looked at their Memorial Day Tribute booth. "Cool set up."

The four stood in front of a large tent-like structure decorated with camo netting, traditional weapons and army paraphernalia in tones of khaki, olive, brown and black. American flags were pinned around the outside with a 'Memorial Day- lest we forget' banner draped across the front.

"Yeah, especially the replica guns and bayonets. It's a nice touch." Jane said. She was impressed, although it lacked a few vital Lane trademark touches; she couldn't have done better herself.

"Yes, hmm replicas," Mr. O'Neil said nervously, and shot a wary look toward Mr. DeMartino. "Here take these fliers. I expect to see you both at the park tomorrow morning for the service." He finished as he handed two glossy cards to Jane and Trent, who, once Mr. O'Neil had turned his back, discarded them on the floor as they headed toward the escalator.

***

Daria had made it with plenty of time to spare. She was seated in a small alcove near the top of the escalators and trying desperately to ignore the drug induced ramblings of Mason as he played with a small novelty kaleidoscope.

"You ever wonder how they get the little colors to float around in there?"

"No," Daria answered in perfect monotone.

"I think it's magic," Mason replied earnestly; a stoned, lop sided smile played across his face as he looked at Daria.

"I think you're an idiot," Daria replied; a small Mona Lisa smile crept across her face.

Mason grabbed his heart in mock anguish, as he slid deeper into the courtesy seat.

"Okay, so what's the play?" He asked as he straightened and leant forward to get a wider view of their surroundings.

"Huh?"

"How is your soul going to die?" He pointed to the Janitor as he tried to get through the mass of people. "Could be him, years of janitorial work could lead to toxic blood poisoning?"

"You've been doing this a long time haven't you?"

"Or it could be that guy trying to get the candy out of the vending machine; could fall back on him, the ultimate death by chocolate. Come on it's fun."

"Have you ever heard of Occam's Razor?"

"Nah." Mason shook his head. "I don't listen to heavy metal."

Daria shook her head and smiled. "Occam's Razor; the simplest answer is usually the correct answer. We're at the top of the escalator, I'm pretty sure the death will have something to do with that... So why are you here?"

"Babysittin' you, love."

"I thought George was going to meet us here?"

"She is, her reap is downstairs same time as yours, we have many super human abilities but being in two places at the one time, isn't one of them." Mason stated matter-of-factly. "And here she comes now."

George appeared at the top of the escalator and looked around frantically. She ran over to her fellow reapers as they emerged from the hiding place.

"Hey guys, here's yours, I still have to claim mine. You have ten minutes." She panted, as she handed over the yellow Post- It, and then took off on the opposite escalator back to the lower level.

Daria looked at the post it and gasped at the name. She looked at the crowd hastily attempting to spot them.

"Dammit," She uttered as she read the yellowed paper once more.  
_  
T. Sloan  
Lawndale Mall, top floor escalator  
3:10pm_

***

Jane and Trent stood in line at 'The Easel' arms laden with art supplies. Jane was so absorbed in the newest edition of _"Art in America_" she didn't notice Trent slip away or Tom's approach.

"Hi, Jane," Tom said tentatively, as he stood beside her.

"Tom." Jane's voice hardened slightly, as she set down the book.

"I'm here with Elsie; she spotted you from across the mall. Look I'm not here for round two." He chuckled slightly. "I just wanted to apologize and get the air cleared before I left Lawndale; we're heading up to the cove for a few weeks and then I'm off to Bromwell."

"I..." Jane began, then stopped herself and sighed. "Thanks. I suppose I should apologize too, for being a bit of a jerk."

"A bit?" Tom laughed warmly. "You want to grab a burger or something before you leave?"

"I already ate..."

"Then let me get those for you..." He looked up at Jane and caught the scowl that had inched across her face. "Okay, I get it, but you should meet us down stairs in five; your old school teachers are putting on a show or something. I know you would enjoy that."

"Fine, I'll catch you soon."

Tom turned toward Trent and waved as he left the store.

"Everything okay?" Trent frowned slightly toward Tom, as he left.

"Yeah, peachy."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Tad Gupty was on the verge of tears. Having lost his father and sister amongst the crowd on their travels to find the janitorial office he had decided to return to the top floor and wait. He did a three-sixty turn and spotted the conservation booth, he stifled a small sob and inched his way over toward the costumed collectors. He tugged on the free arm of the closest. The penguin looked down and crouched so he was at eye level with the distressed child and placed his collection bucket on the ground.

"Hey kid, are you okay?" the teens muffled voice asked.

Tad looked at the animal with uncertainty. "I'm not... My Daddy says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

"Oh, hang on." The teen removed the head, placed it beside him and extended his hand to Tad. "My name's Matt, what's yours?"

Tad took the boys hand and shook it. "I'm Tad."

"See, now we know each other. What seems to be the problem?"

Tad's eyes welled as his face contorted with panic, and let out a wailing cry.

---

A short stature, dark haired man muttered irritably to himself as he pushed his cleaning cart to the code four; a spilt beverage or food item. He hated his job, but with minimum education what could he expect? At least it wasn't a code two; he was a sympathetic vomiter and sawdust gave him hives. He proceeded to set up a few wet floor signs to ward off the shoppers and callously set his mop and bucket down. He watched as the water gushed over the rim and onto the floor. He sighed. _'The hell with this'_ he thought bitterly, as he set the mop down and walked away.

---

Daria scanned the crowd once more; there was a little more than a minute left and there was still no sign of Tom. She mentally repeated the mantra that had slipped through her mind since she had been given the Post-It: _Don't show up, don't show up, don't...._

"Dammit."

Daria spotted him as he exited the new art shop. This was it, now was her chance; it was time to kill her ex-boyfriend. Had her brain not been debating the moral and ethical issues of taking the soul of an ex lover, it might have registered that there were probably countless jilted women, that would revel in the chance to take the life of a former beau.

He headed straight toward her. Daria circled around the small crowd that had gathered at the top of the escalator so that she was directly behind him. She reached an arm out and lightly grazed her palm across his back and felt the all too familiar tingle as his soul was removed.

"I'm sorry, Tom." She uttered a little too loudly, and slunk off into the crowd to wait.

Tom felt the hand brush his back and heard the faint call of his name, startled he turned but was faced with a sea of unfamiliar faces. A loud distorted, electrical screech echoed through the expansive mall and brought his attention back to the people that had begun to flood down the escalator.

"Jesus, Timothy. I THOUGHT you said you KNEW what you were doing. AMATURES, the lot of you. I don't CARE if this is another of your HAIR-brained self-esteem building exercises, THOSE KIDS wouldn't..." Mr. DeMartino's voice blared through the large PA system that had been erected on the lower floor.

"Ah, Anthony, remember what the judge said..." Mr. O'Neil's voice interjected meekly.

"Let's just get this OVER with."

The outburst from the floor below had distracted Tom as he attempted to catch a glimpse of the feuding teachers, but their highly decorated tent blocked his view. With Tom's attention diverted, he didn't see the crying child and the teenage boy in the penguin suit, or his discarded belongings on the floor. Tom's foot connected with the edge of the bucket; it upended and disconnected the lid. The bucket rolled onto its side, sending a silver wave of coins across the floor.

"Oh shit, nice going man." The penguin shot up and pushed Tom backwards; then bent down and joined the mass of people that had gathered to collect the scattered coins.

Tom narrowly missed Tad as he lurched backwards. He gained momentum as he attempted to dodge the crouched forms of the scavengers. His left foot found itself lodged tightly in the oversized head of the penguin costume, as his right slipped in the large milky puddle; sending him off kilter.

Tom's back connected with the hard metal of the safety railing. His arms flapped comically as they searched for something to grab hold of. The force at which he had hit the railing and the combination of the overzealous arm movements, over-balanced him and Tom felt himself drop through the air. His last vision was of the sharp bayonet blades that he was flying at.

A high pitched scream cut through the chaos of the mall and drew all eyes to the small blonde child that stood closest to the booth; her arm raised and finger pointed to the entangled body that had been impaled on the antique guns on the roof of the tent. A fine mist of blood spattered her freckled face, as her wailing continued. It stopped only when the penguin head that had been dislodged from Tom's foot in the fall landed at her feet with soft thud.

Silenced engulfed the room as the occupants stood motionless.

Mr. O'Neil looked at Mr. DeMartino "Anthony...You weren't careless enough to...those guns weren't..." An ear splitting gunshot interrupted him. "...loaded..."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The whole room moved in slow motion; from the moment Tom had slipped, to the echoing shotgun that had brought complete silence to the mall; less than a minute had passed. Three figures stood out against the sea of crouched bodies, near the safety railing on the top floor. They watched as time seemed to return to a normal pace and the people began to move, as the understanding that something terrible had just happened, began to sink in. Mothers grasped for their children; embracing them in tight hugs as they checked for signs of damage, friends called to each other; cries of relief erupted as they realised they had escaped harm. Slowly all eyes came to rest on the two mangled corpses in the centre of the room.

"That was awesome mate, what a way to make an exit; best I've seen in a while." Mason scoffed quietly.

Daria elbowed him in the ribs and glared. "Mason." she warned through gritted teeth. "Uh, Tom..." she continued gently, waiting for his reply.

It didn't come; Tom hadn't noticed either of his companions. His gaze was fixed on the chaos below; namely the two figures that stood on the bottom floor, closest to the bodies; an unknown female and his sister.

"Elsie?" he muttered.

Daria followed his gaze and groaned slightly as she saw Georgia motion to Elsie to follow; as she guided her through the crowd, away from her bloodied corpse.

"Shit." Daria muttered; this was going to be a tricky one. "Tom..." She tried again; her voice clearer, more forceful.

Tom's ears pricked, he knew that voice; but it wasn't possible. "Daria?" he asked quietly as he turned to acknowledge his new companions for the first time.

"Hi." Daria smiled slightly.

"You, how, why. How?" Tom stuttered, mouth agape.

"You said how already." Mason corrected. He received another glare from Daria.

Tom's face twisted in disbelief; he began to pace and shook his head slowly. Daria could see his brain trying to justify her presence. "You're some self-induced shock apparition, that's it right? My subconscious is trying to help me, and I'm seeing the image of my dead ex-girlfriend as a way of coping with my sister's death. That's all I'm just crazy..." He looked at Daria. "I mean you can't really be here, talking to me. You're...you're...you're dead."

"Elsie wasn't the only casualty here today, in fact she died from a side effect of your accident." Daria spoke slowly, she chose her word carefully. She sighed and spoke the inevitable sentence that sat at the back of her throat. "You're dead, Tom."

"What do you mean, dead? I'm not dead, Elsie..." Tom fretted, his voice had risen slightly and cracked on the last syllable.

Daria pointed down to the army display, Tom's eyes followed and a sharp gasp escaped his lips. "Come on, we'll go outside."

***

Tom was in shock; he sat in the bus shelter outside the mall; his trembling hands cradled his head. Daria stood back with Mason as they scanned the parking lot for any sign of George and Elsie.

"We've got to get him moving on Daria, I have my Reap in an hour or so and I got to leg it soon, or I'll miss it."

Daria nodded. "I'll talk to him, you go." She said as gently as she could, truth be told she'd like him to stay around so she didn't look like a crazy person; sitting in the bus shelter talking to herself. Knowing Mason, he would create more problems than he could solve at the moment, and this was going to be hard enough.

She approached Tom and sat down. "This can be hard to..."

"What would you know?" Tom spat insolently.

"Tom... I'm one of the only people that know what you're going through, remember?" she spoke calmly, but below the surface her patience waned; she didn't need him to make a scene or flat out refuse to acknowledge his death.

"Sorry Daria, I didn't mean to lash out like that, this kind of thing really messes with your head."

"Tell me about it. I had to come to terms with dying and _then_ get told I have to stay around for an undefined period of time to help souls transition."

"You're a grim reaper?" Tom asked incredulously, he chuckled and a mischievous smile spread across his face. "I knew you'd find a job working with the dead in some way or another. So where's the cloak and scythe?"

"Hey, I never asked to do this." Daria started. She paused and her features softened as she observed Tom. "The cloak and scythe? You know me; I was never one to accessorize, beside the scythe made my ass look big." A small smile slipped across Daria's face. "You should get going..."

"Hmm, before I do, I just wanted to apologize for missing your funeral; Jane made me feel so bad about it, I'm glad I saw her before I, you know..."

"That's okay, you had, wait Jane's here?" Daria scanned the parking lot.

"Yeah, she was with Trent, what's the..."

"I have to go, I can't..." Daria started.

"Daria, finally. I just got rid of my reap. I need your help with my other one it's at some park I don't know where it is... You haven't got rid of him yet?" George called as she approached. "Hey, you're Tom right? I helped Elsie out said that you were already waiting for her..."

"He was just on his way, right?"

"Yeah, Daria do one thing for me? Look after Jane, she needs it." Tom stood and pecked Daria on the cheek. "See you around."

Tom turned and the two girls watched as he walked toward the growing light that had erupted at the end of the car park.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The early morning sun blistered down upon the city of Lawndale, only a few who were brave or stupid enough to be active occupied the streets. The time was just shy of seven-thirty, and the mercury already read eighty five with tops of one hundred and five forecast. Daria stared blankly from the passenger seat of George's convertible at the passing scenery. The blur of shop front windows meshed together in one long stream; broken occasionally by an alley or intersection.

A stifling silence had befallen the two girls from the moment they had entered the vehicle; Daria had obstinately refused to engage in general communication and George had thankfully left her be. She glanced at George, as she felt a trickle of perspiration pool at the nape of her neck, and slowly inch its way down her back. She sat straighter in her chair, and grimaced at the Velcro-like tear as her skin pried itself from the two toned red and white leather seats.

"Damn humidity, stupid leather seats." Daria muttered, as she leant forward to allow the wind to dry her back.

George turned and studied Daria, an amused smile spread across her face. "You haven't said one word since the mall nearly two days ago and that's your great linguistic return?"

Daria glared at Georgia and returned her eyes to the front.

"Oh come on, look we all eventually get an old boyfriend or girlfriend on a Post-It; I know it's not fair, but death..."

Daria sat up straight and turned to face George. "I know, I know. Death doesn't discriminate; it doesn't care how old you are, what color your skin is or how much money you have in the bank. I know, I don't care that's not..." Daria inhaled deeply as she regained her composure. "That's not my problem, don't worry about it." She trailed off her; voice hushed, as she slowly shook her head and returned her gaze to the front.

"This is about your friend, Jane right? You're not allowed to see her, any of them. You know that and believe me; I know that." George's voice softened as she realised what had been eating at her new friend.

They had driven home from the Mall in a similar silence to that which they had endured moments before; not a word had been spoken. The only communication was a few non committal shrugs and indecipherable grunts as Daria directed Georgia to the location of her next reap. When they had returned home Daria slunk off into her room. Neither George nor Mason had seen her for the rest of the night and it had seemed the silent treatment was set to continue for the rest of the day.

"Look George, I know. I'm not in the mood okay?" Daria sighed and brought a hand to her forehead.

George turned to Daria and smiled slightly, Daria raised her eyes to the front again.

"George, just watch the road okay?"

"Look, if you do; be careful. Rube's got this weird, sixth sense he..."

"GEORGE!" Daria braced hands on the dash of the car, as George whipped her head around and slammed on the brakes. The old mustang screeched to halt, inches from the back of a large SUV. "Jesus Christ. Didn't..."

"Fucking permit drivers." George snarled; her anger evident. "I swear to god I'm gunna..."

Daria sat in a stupefied state of shock, as she watched George's tirade continue; truly one to rival her father. George threw the car into gear and sped off after the offending vehicle. She brought the car came to a callous stop beside the SUV at the next set of lights.

George leant in toward Daria as she climbed up to be level with the driver of the SUV.

"Why don't you stay off the road, until you actually learn how to drive, you incompetent shit!" she yelled.

"George." Daria breathed through gritted teeth; her state of shock slowly subsided, as she became aware of the pedestrian's and other drivers' attention.

Daria heard the power window hum behind her, as the other driver began to speak.

"_Excuse me_ miss, I have half a mind to call your plates into the authorities. How dare you?"

Daria's stomach leapt into her throat, and threatened to claw its way out of her mouth and completely disengage itself entirely from her body. She sunk down deeper into her chair, hoping the ground would open up and engulf her.

"Mo-um, I told you this would happen; you know I can't drive a stick. I don't know why we couldn't use the Lexus; it's just sitting in the driveway, it's not like Dad is going to use it today."

"Sweetie, not now." Helen said as she leaned over her daughter. "I'm calling the police young lady, that's no way to behave on the roads."

A sharp blast of a third car horn brought the feuding women back to their senses and Helen and Quinn watched as the Mustang sped away.

"Are you really going to call the cops?" Quinn asked as she carefully drove across the intersection.

"No. but I should. It's thoughtless people like that, who cause..."

The shrill ring tone of Helen's cell filled the car, and she scrambled to find it. Quinn watched from the corner of her eye, as she pursed her lips tightly and shook her head.

"Helen Morgan... Yes... Well of course I know who... they do ... already?....Well this was my day off... specifically asked for me...Well... Okay then." Helen hung up her phone and looked at her daughter. "Sweetie I know I said that..."

"It's fine." Quinn dead panned as she turned the car around and headed back home.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Quinn inhaled deeply as she stood in the drive and waved farewell to her mother. As Helen reversed the car and drove down the road; the gesture went unnoticed. Quinn turned and entered the Morgendorffer residence hesitantly; the sound of the TV drifted through the still house, undoubtedly left on to fill the eerie silence while her father slept. Jake had taken to inhabiting the living room; which was littered with discarded dinner plates and half-empty glasses. As she ventured further into the house, the faint smell of decomposing leftovers teased her senses and she scouted for the source.

Quinn groaned inwardly as she hazarded a glance at her father. Jake was reclined on the sofa, curled into a foetal position with his arms clutching one of the cushions. A saddened smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she crept closer; sniffing the air.

"Aha!" she exclaimed, as she bent down to retrieve the culprit; a half-eaten banana that had been stowed away, almost completely hidden, under the sofa.

Jake stirred and sat up startled, he gripped the cushion to his chest and his eyes darted around the room.

"Oh sorry Daddy, I didn't mean to wake you." Quinn adopted a soothing tone in a bid to calm her father.

Jake's cold eyes flickered, before resting on Quinn; a smile spread across his mouth, as the warmth returned to his face. "Hi ya, kiddo." he croaked and patted the vacant seat beside him. "I thought your mother was taking you to the mall today?" He frowned slightly.

"Yeah, she was, but the office called and said it was important." Quinn replied, dejected as she sat down.

"You want me to take you?" Jake queried.

"You're going to leave the house? Like go outside, into the real world?" Quinn questioned in disbelief.

"Sure, why not? Besides, you wanted to go to the mall didn't you? It's not fair that you should miss out because your mother is working again and your father has turned into some kind of crazy recluse."

As he spoke Jake's voice grew with enthusiasm; a lost light seemed to have been reignited inside him. He jumped to his feet and Quinn watched with bemusement as he went to the kitchen, he emerged seconds later, jingling his keys with a wide smile on his face.

"Let's go."

"Ah, Dad?" Quinn said with uncertainty.

Jake stopped and turned, he had covered the distance between the kitchen and the entry way in a few long strides.

"What's wrong Quinn?"

Quinn stood slowly and smiled, as she took in her father's appearance; he had been wearing the same set of pyjamas for at least three days, his face was coarse with greying stubble and the remnants of sleep still clung to his face.

"You might want to change your clothes, and maybe a shower wouldn't be a bad idea."

Jake cast his head down, he tugged at the hem of his sleep shirt and chuckled slightly. "Thanks kiddo, give me half an hour?"

Quinn nodded and watched him mount the stairs, then turned and shook her head at the state of the living room. She silently cursed her mother's enthused approach to work What could be so important?

***

Helen pushed open the door to her office and entered, trying to hide the feelings of uncertainty and apprehension she was experiencing. The brief phone call that beckoned her to the office on her day off, hadn't been all that informative, which was typical of Richard; especially when prospective clients contained a bit of money.

Richard Riordan reclined in the chair behind Helen's desk, engaged in conversation with the two Sloanes. The three stopped and turned as Helen approached her desk.

"Ah Helen, you know Angier and Kay Sloane."

"Of course." Helen replied, as she set her briefcase down on the desk and greeted them with a handshake. "I'm so sorry to hear about your loss."

"Actually Helen," Angier started, as he sat back down in his chair. "That's what we're here for."

"I'm sorry?" Helens gaze darted between the three other occupants in the room.

"We've received reports from eyewitnesses, and I had someone look into the human resources department at the mall. The initial fall was caused by negligence of the cleaning staff; most of whom I have found out, don't hold valid citizenship papers or visas."

"Angier, I'm not really sure you..."

"Helen, a word please?" Richard interjected, as he stood and led Helen outside her office. He pulled the door shut softly behind them.

"Look Richard, this is lunacy. That negligence case will never see it past mediation and they will spend more money on legal fees than any payout they could hope to receive. Besides, I'm not qualified to lead this case." Helen paced the short width of the corridor; head down, eyes on the floor.

"Helen, stop rambling. They specifically asked for you, they said that you would sympathise with them..."

Helen stopped and looked and Richard. "Don't you _dare_ use Daria to get me to agree to this." she shot bitterly.

"I would never," Richard spoke softly, in a practiced tone. "This case, although almost certainly doomed, has great potential for the firm. The Sloane's have the money to waste; clearly this pursuit is not about financial gain. This is about justification and vengeance. They lost two children. Helen, you, of all people, should..."

Helen glared a warning at Richard. He cleared his throat and continued with a different tact. "This could mean a lot to your career. A huge opportunity for you to show us you have what it takes; what, with Eric doing a River Phoenix, we need someone to step up and this may well be the case to show that you can handle it." Richard smiled as Helen stopped in her tracks.

"Are you saying that you are considering me for partner?"

"Well, we'll never know, will we? You're not taking the case." Richard replied dismissively, as he put his hand on the door handle.

"I never ruled it out completely, we'll have to talk business and strategy. Oh, and Richard? You use my daughter's death to manipulate me again, I swear to God..." Her voice took on a hushed, menacing tone as she shook her head and followed him back into the office.

"Angier, Kay. Great news."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"So we're back to the silent treatment are we?" Georgia leaned in across the table, in an effort to catch Daria's eye.

Daria met Georgia's questioning gaze and raised an eyebrow, then folded her arms as she slumped back into the worn green leather of the booth seat.

"This isn't about the boyfriend shish kebab is it?" Mason groaned, as he turned to Daria. "Love these things..."

"Please Mason, no more _C'est la vie_ bullshit. I'm not giving anyone the silent treatment." Daria snapped, as she inched herself away from Mason. "I'm mad, and no, this isn't about Tom."

A loud chink of cutlery as it hit the edge of a crockery plate diverted the three younger reapers attention to Roxy. She had so far endured the last ten minutes, in a sullen silence. She sat up straight and turned to her left. "Jesus Rube, will you say something? This is getting beyond a joke. All I ask is to have a peaceful breakfast and what do I get, the equivalent to an episode of Days of Our Fucking Lives. Enough with the fucking melodrama; it can't be that bad."

Rube folded the newspaper he had been perusing and gently placed the table in front of him, then surveyed his group. His eyes scrutinized each of his charges before finally coming to a rest on George.

"Georgia, peanut, what seems to be the problem?"

"What makes you think that I'm the problem?" Georgia replied insolently.

Rube's eyes narrowed and he sat back in his chair, and waited for her to continue.

"Look," Georgia began frustrated. "How was I meant to know that it was her mom and sister in the car? It's not like they has a neon sign attached to the tailgate reading 'Proud family of the recently deceased Daria Morgendorffer'."

Rube sighed exasperatedly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What did you do?"

"She abused the shit out of my sister, then flipped off my mom as we drove away." Daria spoke up.

Rube shook his head and locked his eyes on Georgia; the rest of the gang sat silent as he mentally chastised her.

Roxy glanced at her watch and cleared her throat. "Rube, you mind giving me my assignment now? Some of us have day jobs." She haughtily directed her last sentence to Daria and Mason, as she stood and held out her hand.

Rube's eyes flicked to Roxy and he withdrew his small leather notebook from his breast pocket. He set it open on the table, and pulled out four Post-It notes and handed one to Roxy. She grunted stiffly in response and walked out of the diner.

"Ah. Now that Roxy mentioned it, I do have a rather important meeting I can't afford to miss." Mason shuffled slightly in his seat and motioned for Daria to let him out.

"Mason, the crack den will be open all day and I'm guessing all night. A few minutes won't hurt." Rube chided and handed Mason one of the yellow slips of paper.

Daria readied herself to receive her next hit; she hoped that it was someone she didn't know, and watched as Rube handed the final two Post-It's to Georgia, who took one in each hand and looked at Rube incredulously.

"Two? I have two? Where's Daria's? Can't she have one?"

"Think of it as penance and a reminder to watch your road rage." Rube smiled warmly, as Georgia stuffed the papers rather unceremoniously into her purse, and left in a huff.

Daria eyed Rube cautiously as she slid back into the seat opposite him. "What was that for?"

"You look like you could use the day off." He replied simply.

"Ah, thanks. I guess?"

"It's not easy being a reaper in your home town; chances are that more often than not you will have to reap someone you knew."

"Mmm" Daria replied quietly, not sure where this was headed; maybe she was the one being seriously reprimanded and George was getting off lightly. Maybe she was going to be transferred; her heart sank as the thought took hold, she would never see her family or friends again.

"I understand the funeral for Mr. and Miss Sloane is on Tuesday." Daria stared blankly in response. Unable to read her, Rube continued, "It's an unwritten rule that we are not to attend these gatherings, unless of course it's to accompany a new reaper. But I'm willing to grant you a onetime pass, as long as you don't communicate with any of your old acquaintances, remember they're not _your_ friends and family they're _Daria's_ and she is dead and buried. You got that?"

Daria frowned slightly as she collected her thoughts; the truth be told she hadn't considered attending Tom's funeral. She mulled the idea around in her mind, this was an opportunity to observe some of the people she knew and loved without resorting to stalking; there had to be a catch.

Rube chuckled lightly he seemed to have read her thoughts. "No catch, hopefully this will drive it home that those people are no longer a part of your life and provide you with a little closure. You will, of course, be chaperoned by Georgia and hopefully Roxy. Lord knows Mason won't be of any help and families like that tend to have open bars..." His voice trailed off, as he let the information sink in and allowed the comfortable silence to surround them. After he had finished his meal Rube dug a twenty dollar bill from his wallet and left it on the table.

"Come on kiddo, I'll give you a lift home."

Daria nodded and followed Rube out to his blue pickup.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"Three hundred dollars for a pair of shoes?" Helen screamed as she paced the kitchen.

Quinn sat at the kitchen table; her arms folded tightly across her chest. "You said I could buy some new shoes."

"Not for three hundred dollars! First thing tomorrow you're returning them for a full refund."

"Mo-om, I bought them on sale. They'll maybe do in-store credit, but I doubt it; even though I'm a preferred customer. Besides, I bought them for the funeral on Tuesday. I can't take them back or I'll have nothing else to wear." Quinn looked at her mother; she donned the usual expression that made Helen crack. It didn't work. Helen shook her head and scowled at her daughter.

"Don't give me that look Quinn; it won't work, not this time. I don't work my ass off to cater to your compulsive shopping young lady."

"No, you work to cater your own selfish need to--" Quinn muttered insolently.

"Need to what?" Helen interjected and stopped pacing. She leaned on the table, and glared at Quinn; daring her to continue.

Quinn's mouth opened slightly but faulted; she looked pleadingly toward her father for support.

"Helen..."Jake soothed.

Helen's head snapped toward Jake. "Don't you dare stand up for her, this purchase is too expensive. You should have stopped her!"

"Stopped her? Really? And how could I have possibly managed that from the front seat of my car? I didn't give her the damned gold card," Jake returned coolly.

"So this is my fault?" Helen asked incredulously, as she stood back and set her steely gaze on her husband; her lips pursed tightly and her brow furrowed.

"If you hadn't caved-in to your boss's beckoning and taken her like you had planned to..." Jake started, his temper flared.

"Well, excuse me for being the responsible one in the family; someone has to earn the money. We can't all mope around the house, Jake. It's been almost a month, do you plan on returning to work anytime soon or should I expect to have you here, working on deepening your ass groove in the couch?" Helen's voice rose and she appeared flustered.

"So instead of dealing with our situation like a normal human being, I should have turned into a cold, mindless cyborg like you? Throwing myself into my work and neglecting the remaining members of my family? Helen, Daria's gone and you have lost a close colleague in the last few weeks, don't you feel anything?" Jake strained, as a tear welled in the corner of his eye.

"Thanks, that's great. Really great. I try to support my family financially and you throw it back in my face. Cold? Mindless? Jake, I'm doing all I can to hold this family together." Helen spat back.

"Oh, ho, that's rich. This is the first time you've been home before seven in three weeks; I can't tell you the last time we sat down as a family and had dinner. You aren't trying to hold this family together, unless, you're doing it from the safety of that damned office. You stayed back there the day they found Eric! I'm starting to think that you have invested so much in that God-forsaken law firm that it is all you care about. Because it's becoming crystal clear, you don't give a shit about what happens here; you wouldn't have even known about Quinn's purchase if she hadn't shown you. She wanted you to approve of them, of her. Your approval Helen, not some work-crazed, robotic replacement of a mother. We all have ways of coping with loss, but to ignore it all together? It's like you are ignoring Daria's very existence. So excuse me if I need some time to gather myself after the death of my daughter." Jake's ragged breath was the only sound that could be heard. He waited for his wife's reaction.

Helen recoiled at Jake's words. She pulled out an empty seat and slowly lowered herself into it, her gaze dropped to the table.

Quinn had observed her parents outburst in silence; her head whipped back and forth as the spiteful words were served. She watched as her shell-shocked mother tried to regain her composure; she felt bad, but couldn't argue that the words weren't true. She rose gingerly from the table and avoided eye contact with either of her parents; she hoped to make a quick and undetected exit; she needed out.

"Don't you dare. We haven't discussed what you're going to do with the shoes." Helen sighed deeply and looked up Quinn. "If you aren't going to return them, you will have to pay for them. You will have to get a job, no discussions." Helen concluded sternly.

Quinn looked at her mother contemptuously and left the room in a huffed silence.

"Where are you going?" Helen called after her.

"Out." Quinn's voice responded followed by the shuddered slam of the front door.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Quinn paced the length of her driveway as she flicked through the contact list in her phone. She scrolled down and stopped on 'Sandi'. Hesitantly she hit the talk button and brought the phone to her ear, as she listened to the connection tone.

"It's about time; I had Stacy leave three messages on your voice mail. You better have a good excuse for the delay in returning my call." Sandi's voice droned over the line.

Quinn sighed; she wasn't in the mood for this. "I'm sorry Sandi, things have been hectic at home." She offered as a half hearted apology.

"That's no excuse to shirk your duties in the Fashion Club." Sandi reprimanded. "In case you were to _busy_ to check your messages, we have called an emergency meeting. We have to organise our outfits for Tuesday; God knows we don't need _another_ incident like the dance. I will not have one of those Fielding girls show up in the same outfit as me, or any of us for that matter."

"Sandi, it's a funeral, not frivolous dance; does it really matter if you show up dressed like someone else?" Quinn's voice was bitter.

"Quinn, I'm going to put that comment down to stress. Need I remind you that the Fashion Club prides itself on being the forefront of fashion trends? Look, just get over here; we need to discuss colours."

"Sandi, two kids our age are dead, looking at colour swatches isn't what I need right now."

Quinn took the phone from her ear and glared at it. She hit the disconnect button and shoved it furiously into her pocket.

She realised she had been walking while on the phone, she glanced up and found herself in front of 111 Howard Drive; the Lane abode.

_I wonder if Daria and Jane were friends by default since Jane lived downhill from us; it was easy to drift to her house without realising it._ She mused and smiled to herself.

The phone vibrated in her back pocket but it went unanswered; Quinn crossed the road and walked to the front door of Jane's house. She knocked on the door tentatively; she needed someone with half a brain to talk to, though the last time she had spoken to Jane it hadn't ended well.

Jane opened the door and stared at Quinn suspiciously. "What are you doing here?" she asked carefully, her voice husky from disuse.

Quinn laughed nervously. "Just saying hi? Can I come in?"

Jane raised her eyebrows as she shrugged and moved to one side of the door to allow Quinn entry. Jane shut the door and returned to the couch and stared at the black screen of the television. Quinn sat in the opposite chair and sighed; hoping to gain Jane's attention.

Jane turned to Quinn. "What's up Red?" a small smile flickered across Jane's face.

"I..." Quinn sighed defeated. "I need someone to talk to."

"And you chose me, what happened to your Fashion Fiends? Did they bail when they realised you were sisters with a brain?" Jane chided.

"No, they, well Sandi, is too much for me at the moment; she is holding an emergency meeting. I really don't care if someone shows up at the funeral with the same shoes or bag as me."

"They are having an emergency meeting to make sure they are styled for a funeral?" Jane asked incredulously. She shook her head. "That's pretty..."

"Shallow?" Quinn offered.

"Yeah, I'm sorry to say, but, why aren't you there? It's something you'd normally do."

"I don't know, since..." Quinn inhaled sharply and pressed on. "Since Daria died, I've pretty much had to fend for myself. Things like that seem pretty trivial; I mean there's more to life than colour swatches and clothes, right? There has to be."

"I'm still having trouble understanding why you chose me to come to."

"Your house is the easiest to walk to?" Quinn smiled. "Daria always held you in high regard; that's a pretty big thing, Daria never liked anyone. I guess she would be the one I'd go to if she were alive; she always knew what to say. You have the same no-nonsense approach to life and you're probably the only one that knows how I'm feeling." Quinn's voice trailed off.

"Why not talk to Helen or Jake?"

"Please. Mom's been working all day, every day at the firm; it looks like she might make partner. And Dad? Dad left the house for the first time since the funeral today; I think he took his first shower too. The fact is they feel pretty much nonexistent; and they're always fighting. Bad. I don't know what to do." Quinn looked up at Jane helplessly.

Jane sat in silence as she digested Quinn's words. "Daria had told me your parent's relationship could become pretty turbulent; but they rarely fought in front of you. Look Quinn, I don't know how I can help you; I haven't seen my mom since April. My dad? God I couldn't tell you; the only sign he's around is the fridge will be full of developing chemicals for his photos."

There was a long pause. "What was Daria like?" Quinn asked softly.

"Huh?" Jane asked, she had been thrown off guard.

"Daria, you were really the only one that knew her. I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but she only hung with the unpopular people; I never really got a proper chance to know her. I always thought there'd be more time; we would be proper sisters after we got through high school. But... Can I hang out with you sometime? You can tell me what she was really like?"

Jane shifted uncomfortably in her chair, biding her time before answering. Fortunately before Jane could respond Trent entered the living room. He thumped lazily down the stairs, still half asleep. He noted the two girls on the couches and nodded a greeting.

"Yo. We still on for the Zon?" Jane asked.

Trent shrugged and walked into the kitchen. Jane excused herself and followed him.

"What's Quinn doing here?" He asked as he searched the bare cupboards.

"I don't know; I think I may have adopted her."

"Janey, you know what mom said about bringing home strays; besides isn't she a little high maintenance?"

Jane raised an eyebrow. "Mmm, I feel sorry for her though. She seems pretty upset."

Quinn sat on the sofa and retrieved her phone from her pocket; there was one new voicemail.

_"Quinn, its Stacy. Sandi said 'How dare you hang up on her, if you don't come over now...' Sandi I can't remember it all."_

"Tell her, if she doesn't get her act together and arrive on my doorstep in ten minutes I will take that as her official resignation..." Sandi's faint voice called.

"Did, you hear that?" Stacy asked. "Please Quinn, just apologize." She continued in a hushed voice.  
  
Quinn hung up the phone; it had been ten minutes since the message was left. Quinn shrugged as she stood and walked toward the Lane kitchen. She cleared her throat to gain the attention of the siblings.

"Can I come too?" Quinn asked timidly.

***

Quinn stood on the front steps of her house; she was out way past midnight and it was evident her parents were waiting up for her return. She inhaled deeply and opened the door.

"Yes Linda I know it's late, but..." Helen turned at the sound of the door. "Oh, thank God! Yes Linda, that's her now...I know you wouldn't allow that...Yes I know it reflects on me...Linda, I have to go now." Helen hung up and tossed the cordless phone onto the lounge. "Where the hell were you? I called everyone." Helen cried her voice a mixture of anger and relief.

"Out." Quinn replied sullenly.

"For five hours? Where were you?"

"The Zon." Quinn shrugged.

"The Zon? The grunge club on Dega street? Who on earth were you with?" Helen threw her arms into the air.

"Jane and Trent."

"Jane and Trent Lane? Daria's Jane?" Helen asked carefully.

Quinn nodded. "We watched Trent play."

"Oh... Why didn't you have your phone on? I tried to call." Helen's voice softened.

"Mom, I was watching a grunge band play mindless music; like I could have heard my phone."

"Well I would have appreciated a call to let me know where you were; you know how I despise talking to Sandi's mother." Helen smiled. "I found a job for you, so you can repay me for those shoes."

Quinn groaned. "Really?"

"Yes, Chez Pierre. An opening for a server; you have a trial Friday for the dinner service."

Quinn opened her mouth in protest but decided against it. "Fine." She said sullenly and went to her room.


	19. Chapter 19

***  
**Epilogue**

As she entered her room Quinn checked her phone; there were eight missed calls, four voice mail messages and three texts. Two calls were from her mom, the others from Sandi via Stacy's phone. She sighed heavily as she flopped wearily on her bed and her thumb hovered over the 'delete all' confirmation button.

She knew that her decision now would have a long lasting effect on her life. A pang of fear gripped her insides; was she ready to do this, leave the Fashion Club and free herself of Sandi's tyrannical dictatorship? Could she survive the rest of her high school life without the buffer? Was her interest in her sister's somewhat secret life worth throwing away her own? What would Daria do...

Quinn's finger pushed the button with an enthused force. She closed her eyes and let the phone slide from her slackened grip.

_'I hope you know what you're doing, Morgendorffer.' _

***

Part 2 of Reaped Out is up, called 'Reaped Out- Act 2: Sickle Sad World'


End file.
